


Adventures In Manny Sitting

by cuddyclothes



Series: After Verse [5]
Category: Swiss Army Man (2016)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Bathing/Washing, Love, M/M, Miracles, Necrophilia Not Really, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddyclothes/pseuds/cuddyclothes
Summary: Hank surprises Manny by taking him to a playground in the middle of the night.They break into the boy's locker room so that Hank can steal clothing and give Manny a shower.  They discover another miracle.It's going great until the security guard shows up.“Okay, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up.”Hank hauled Manny to a shower stall, grabbing a plastic chair on the way.  Once in the shower, he propped Manny up on the chair.  “We have to take your clothes off.”“Why?” Manny asked, suspicious.“Cause that’s what you do when you take a shower.  You’ve been my shower plenty of times.”





	

 

 

Hank stumbled as he carried Manny through the night woodland.  They sang a Beatles song that Hank had taught Manny.  Hank sang the guitar lines under the lyrics.

 _Oh yeah, I'll tell you something_  
_(Da da da da da da-dum)_  
_I think you'll understand_  
_When I say that something  
(Da da da da da da-dum)_

Together they belted out the rest of the song--

  
_I wanna hold your **hand!!!**_  
_I wanna hold your hand_  
_I wanna hold your hand_  
  
Hank paused, catching his breath.  “We’re almost there, Manny.”  The night sky was clear, without stars.  There was a hint of fall in the air.

“What’s the surprise, Hank?  What’s the surprise?”

Hank should never have told Manny he had a surprise in store for him.  Except for when Hank could distract him by singing, Manny had been asking over and over, like a querulous child. 

“If I tell you, it’s not a surprise, now, stop it.” Hank paused. “I’m sorry, I sound like my dad.”

“No, you don’t.  Do you ever miss him?”

“A little. Sometimes.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“No.  He wouldn’t understand.”

“Besides, he’ll get your birthday card every year.  I wonder what my dad was like.”

Hank chuckled. “Your dad was probably awesome.  One of the cool dads. Had a job as a aerospace engineer or a scientist for NASA. He worked long hours but he still made time for you and your brother and sister.”

“What about my mom?”

“Your mom was the best. I’ll bet she packed the best lunches at your school.  Every kid was jealous of the great stuff you brought.  After school, all your friends would come over and she’d serve potato chips and Coke, and then you’d go out to the backyard and play softball until the sun went down.” Hank stepped carefully over a large tree root. “Even though you had a brother and sister, she loved you the most.  She dropped you off at school every morning, and picked you up every afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Manny agreed.

“On Saturdays your family went on picnics or to the movies.  Your mom and dad never got mad at you.  Your family was awesome.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters, Hank?”

“No. I’m an only child.” Hank shifted Manny as they navigated some large rocks.  “My dad didn’t have time to do much with me after my mom died.  He probably didn’t want to, anyway.”  He laughed sadly. “I’m not enough of a man.  He would have been happier with a son who was a dumb jock.”

“But you were a skinny geek instead,” Manny observed.

“Shut UP!  Do I have to turn around and go back?” Hank turned so that he was partly facing Manny.

Manny’s eyes widened.  “No, Hank, please, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it to be nasty!”

Hank turned and stared ahead.   “Keep your voice down. We’re getting near the town.”

There were lights beyond the trees.  Hank skirted along the edge of the forest, keeping a wary eye out for people. “Shhhh,” he warned Manny. “Not a sound or we’ll get caught.”

They continued along, until there were no more lights. Large institutional buildings loomed in front of them.  Quickly, Hank and Manny stole around the side.

“Surprise!”

Manny stared.  “What is it?”

“A playground!”  The buildings were a private school, the kind Hank wished he could have gone to when he was a kid.  There he wouldn’t be “Hanky Wanky”, maybe wear a school uniform and look cool.  Smoke cigarettes behind the library.

Hank lowered Manny to the ground, then pulled him through a tear in the chain link fence around the school.   Manny could still barely use his arms, and in a clumsy way, his hands, but his lower body was limp.

“What am I looking at?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember playgrounds.”

“I don’t remember playgrounds.”

“It’s a—a ground where kids play. During school recess.  Look, those are swings, and that big round thing is a merry-go-round.”  Hank rubbed his hands together. “That’s the best place to start!  We’re gonna have so much fun!”

A light flashed on, illuminating the playground.  “SHIT!” 

It was a motion sensor light, a camera next to it.  Hank scooped up gravel, put it Manny’s mouth, and pounded his back.  The gravel shot out, breaking both the light and the camera.

“They won’t check until tomorrow, “ Hank said with a sigh of relief.  “Come on.”

It took a few minutes for Hank to lash Manny by his arms and waist to the merry-go-round.  He let Manny’s legs swing free.

“What’s supposed to happen?” Manny asked suspiciously.

“Hang on!”  Hank pushed a large yellow spoke of the merry-go-round.  Manny wailed in fright.

“You okay, buddy?  It’s completely safe.”

Manny made a small bleat.  Hank squeezed Manny’s shoulder. “I won’t let you get hurt.  We’ll start slow, okay?”  He walked alongside Manny, pulling the spoke, then ran, then pushed it and let go.  Manny’s mouth opened in surprise and pleasure.

“You love it, right, Manny?” Hank pushed another spoke. “Right?”

“Hank, this is incredible!”

“We’re going faster!” Hank exclaimed, and ran around the outside, pushing the spoke. Then he jumped up on it.  “Hang on, Manny!”  The night air whipped by his face.  He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of whirling.

“Don’t stop!” Manny yelled.

They revolved on the merry-go-round until Hank felt dizzy.  He slowed it by putting his feet on the ground, and dragging it to stop.  He put his head down, hands on his knees.  “Whoa,” he said after a minute.

“Hank, are you okay?”

“Yeah.  When my mom was alive, she took me to this playground a few miles from our house.” He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them lightly.  “It wasn’t that great. A lot of the equipment was rusty. You could rip your pants on the slide. But Mom sat on the bench and watched me.  She was okay if I fell off the swings or something stupid like that.” He paused.  “I miss my mom.”

“Do you still think about her when you masturbate?”

“MANNY!  No!” He stood up.  He didn't admit he still didn't masturbate. “Okay!  I’ve got something even better!”

“Better than the merry-go-round?”

“I promise. You will lose your shit!”

“Why would I want to keep my shit?”

“It’s a saying.”  Laughing, Hank untied Manny and lugged him over to the swings.  They were kids’ swings, which meant Manny’s legs dragged on the ground.  Hank tied his friend’s wrists and arm to the ropes, and the bottom half of his body to the rubber seat. 

“Okay, Manny, I’m going to get behind you and push, okay?”

“Okay, Hank.”

Hank gave the swing a small push. “WHOA!” Manny yelled. “Stop!”

“What?” Hank steadied the ropes.

“What if I fall off?”

“You won’t fall off.  I promise.  Here’s another push.  _Woooo_ , up in the air and back.  _Wooo_ , up in the air and back.  And a little bigger push, up in the air and back.”

“Oh my god!  This is the best!  Do it again!” Manny cried.

“Yeah!  _WOOOOOOO!_ ”

Hank yelled and sent Manny higher with each push.   His experience of his school playground was getting beat up by the older kids.  Some of them girls. Seeing Manny having so much fun was like having a friend on the playground.  He pushed Manny harder, watching Manny’s silhouette fly up against the night sky.

He imagined his mom sitting on one of the benches, a brown paper bag with a sandwich for him in it. And she was smiling.

 

***********

 

Manny wanted to go on the slide.  But Hank couldn’t see any way he could rig up Manny so that he could slide, and be there at the bottom to catch him.   Then he saw a sign on the wall with arrows pointing in two directions.

**LOCKER ROOMS**

This was too good to be true.

“Manny!  We can get some clean clothes, and get you a shower!”

“How are we gonna do that?”

Hank dragged Manny to the metal door with a sign, BOYS LOCKER ROOM.  There was a large steel padlock on it.  Hank slammed Manny’s arm on it until the padlock broke.  Keeping an eye out for a camera, Hank carried Manny into the locker room.  There was no need to turn on the light.  Hank hadn’t seen an electric light in ages.

“Hank, where are we?”

“It’s a locker room.  It’s where people lock up their stuff.”

“Their trash?”

“No, other stuff.  Clothes, lotions, shoes…they don’t want anybody to take it, so they lock it up.”

“They should share.  We would.”

“Exactly.  Now, they’re going to share with us.”

Hank used Manny’s jaws to break several of the small locker door padlocks, and then laid Manny down on a long bench. He opened the lockers. There were bags in every one of them.  He pulled bags and pieces of clothing out of the lockers and inspected them.  

“Wha-ho!  It’s Christmas, Manny!”  He dumped a bag on the floor.  It was full of clothing. Clean, for a change.  He’d forgotten what clean clothes smelled like.  Some of them were children’s clothes, but most were adult’s.  He’d gotten some t-shirts from the trash, but these were much better. He held up a t-shirt and looked at Manny.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He hauled Manny to a shower stall, grabbing a plastic chair on the way.  Once in the shower, he propped Manny up on the chair.  “We have to take your clothes off.”

“Why?” Manny asked, suspicious.

“Cause that’s what you do when you take a shower.  You’ve been my shower plenty of times.”   He knelt and untied Manny’s shoelaces, then slid the mud-caked shoes off.  Manny’s socks were a lost cause, so Hank tossed them to one side.  He undid Manny’s suit pants, and dragged them down to the floor.  Manny had on what had once probably been white boxer briefs.  They were gray and caked with mud.  His penis appeared normal sized, not like the anaconda it became when he had an erection.  Hank tugged off the briefs.  Manny’s penis was impressive. But right now Hank didn’t have his mind on sex, he was too busy making sure his charge got properly cleaned up.

Off came the torn blue suit coat and the frayed shirt.  Hank was startled to see the discoloration all over Manny’s abdomen.  Purple, yellow and blue stood out against his white skin. It was like an abstract painting.

“What _is_ that?” Manny exclaimed.  “Why am I all different colors?  I’m disgusting!”

Hank sat up on his knees, holding the shirt.  “It’s not disgusting.  It’s—it’s—“

Manny whimpered.

“No, really, it’s not disgusting, you shouldn’t use that word.”

Manny clumsily lifted his arms and crossed them in front of his midsection. “It’s a disease!  Get away, you might catch it!”

“No, it’s not a disease—“

“What is it??” He whimpered again.

“It’s—um—it’s not a disease—it’s—it’s from how they think you died.”

Manny’s thick eyebrows went nearly up to his bangs. “You _know_ how I died?”

Hank went hot and cold all over. “It’s not definite—it was something I heard the medical examiner say—they don’t know—“

“WHAT DID HE SAY?”

Hank had never thought this would come up.  He wasn’t prepared, he should have thought about this, but he was hadn’t and now it was too late.  He hung his head.

“He said you probably jumped off a bridge.  That’s why your body is all of those colors.”

“Why did I jump off a fucking bridge?  What could have been so awful in my life that I jumped off a bridge?  What the fuck, Hank?  You never told me!  Like you didn’t tell me that wasn’t my phone!”

“How do you tell someone something like that?” Hank said frantically. “I don’t even know if it’s true, Manny, I heard the guy say it.  What does it matter, Manny, what does it matter?”

“It matters!” Manny sucked on his lower lip, obviously trying to get control of himself.  “If I knew how you died,” he said, voice slow, “I would tell you.  I would try to find out who you were.”

“Manny, please.” Hank lowered his head onto Manny’s pale thigh.  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this.  You had no ID.  They were going to bury you in an unmarked grave. Didn’t you hear all that?”  He wrapped his arms around Manny’s legs.  “I wasn’t going to let them do that.”

Manny let out a sigh.  “No. I was dead again.”  He stiffly lifted his left arm and dropped it on Hank’s shoulder. “I don’t want to know who I was.  My life must have been awful if I jumped off a bridge.”  He looked down at himself.  “I’m disgusting...” his voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Stop it!  You’re not disgusting.”  Hank examined Hank’s torso.  “Wait a minute.” He rocked back on the floor, then gently ran one finger across the bruising.  “Manny, it’s yellow green here.”

“It’s disgusting!”

“No, it’s not.” Hank stared into Manny’s bright blue eyes, which were wide open with fear.  “It’s—it’s—wait—yellow, purple, blue—“  He thought hard, and gasped.  “Manny—you’re healing!  _Oh shit!_   Manny, you’re healing!  I was a clumsy kid and my mom told me that it was okay to bruise, and she showed me the different colors.  Blue was the worst, purple was better, yellow meant it would go away.  Manny, _your guts are healing!_ ”  Hank was filled with awe.  “You’re a miracle.”

“I don’t understand, Hank.”

“Love brought you to life...you’re becoming more alive!”

“Oh, wow!” Manny grinned, his blue eyes bright.  With a loud cracking sound, he craned his head downwards. 

Hank rubbed his forehead in disbelief.  “Look at you...look at  _you_!” He whooped.  “Oh YEAH!  Oh YEAH!  We gotta get you cleaned up, Manny, we gotta get you cleaned up.  This is crazy, this is crazy, this is so great, this is crazy...”  He stood and turned on the shower.

The water pelted both of them.  Hank squeezed out handfuls of the BODY WASH/SHAMPOO liquid out of the white wall container and scrubbed Manny everywhere.  Dirt and debris sluiced across the grey cement floor down to the shower drain.  Manny had more body hair than Hank would have thought. He was extra-careful when washing Manny’s stomach.  Manny was docile, letting Hank twist and turn him this way and that.  Manny tried to speak, but the shower stream hit his face and all he could do was splutter.

Hank spread Manny’s legs and soaped his crotch.  He ignored Manny’s stiffening cock.  With clinical detachment, he rinsed off the grime.  Then he lifted Manny and turned him around so that the shower could hit his back. Thank goodness Manny was so small. Manny gave Hank’s shoulder a small kiss.  “I love you, Hank.  It’s okay.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Manny.”  With one hand, he turned the shower off.  He lowered Manny back onto the chair, got a towel, and towel-dried him.  “There ya go, buddy!  You look great!”  Hank was also dripping wet.  His clothes stuck to him.  He wiped his face with the wet towel.  And made a note to take some towels.

He held up and discarded several t-shirts, until finding the perfect one.  He pulled a pair of jeans out of one locker, and clean tube socks. Damn, there were packages of tube socks in this blue duffle!  PACKAGES of tube socks!  Clean tighty-whities.  Hank hummed “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” and bopped back and forth as he sorted through the stuff.  Wow, Manny’s injuries were healing!  Hank remembered with a start that he hadn’t seen the burns on Manny’s neck.

Manny smiled at him from the plastic chair, his cock erect. Damn, that thing was scary large.  “Hank!  Let’s french-kiss, then have sex!”

“Not now, buddy, maybe later.  Let’s get you dressed.”  

Clearly disappointed, Manny tried to help Hank pull on underwear.  But his lack of coordination made it more of a problem.  Hank slid the briefs on, trying to avoid Manny’s cock. 

Next, socks.  The jeans presented more of a problem, since they were less pliable.   “Sorry, buddy,” Hank said, and gently slid Manny onto the floor.

“It’s okay, Hank.  Where are _my_ clothes?”

“They’re on the floor by the drain.  We’ll throw them out.”

“NO!  They’re mine!  They’re my clothes!”

“Oh, okay.” Hank gathered up the sodden suit and shirt and put them with the rest of the things.

With Manny on the floor, Hank could pull on the jeans.  He fetched Manny’s wet shoes from the shower and forced them on over the socks.

“Hank, do people put on different clothes a lot?”

“Most people do it every day.” Hank did up the shoelaces. 

“How do they have time to do anything else?”

Hank sat Manny up and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

The overhead lights went on. Hank let go of Manny, who fell over.

Hank was temporarily blinded. Shielding his eyes, he turned to see a large blond security guard staring down at them.  His heart stopped.

“What in the hell are you two doing?” the guard demanded.

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck we’ll go to jail and they’ll take Manny away oh fuck oh fuck_ Panic-stricken, Hank fumbled for an answer.  What was he doing on the floor tying another guy’s shoelaces?  How do you explain something like that?  An idea came to him.

“Sir,” he said, his voice deferential, “this is my brother.  He has special needs, as you can see.” Hank lifted one of Manny’s legs and let it drop to the ground. “See?  I gave him a shower...cause...we don’t...have a bathtub...?” his voice trailed off.  He got to his feet, almost slipping on the wet floor.  He tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t.

“I’m not your bro—“

“Manny, I’m talking to the man,” Hank cautioned. “We’ll just be on our way.”

The guard took in the broken lockers, objects on the floor, and the filthy shower chair. “How do you explain all of this shit?  You two break in here, vandalize the place and then have pervy sex?  What the fuck?” He lifted his walkie-talkie to his mouth.

This action, however, was interrupted by Hank punching him hard enough to knock him unconscious.  He dropped like a sack of dirt on the ground.

“Why did you hit him?”

“He was going to take you away from me. Not gonna happen.” Hank tied the guard’s hands behind his back with a jump rope.  The security guard was harder to move around than Manny.  “We gotta haul ass, Manny,” he panted. 

Hank frantically filled the empty bags with clothes, food, a couple of yoga mats and other things that might be useful. Shaving lotion—that would make it easier when dragging Manny’s teeth over his face.  He shoved Manny’s sopping clothes, and tossed them in.  First, he tied Manny onto his back with elastic exercise bands. Second, he picked up all of the bags, pulling some onto his shoulders, hanging a small one around his neck.  The guard was still unconscious.

Carrying the bags and Manny, Hank loped across the dark playground.  Then he stopped abruptly.

“Hank, what are you doing? That guard’s going to catch us!”

“Not if he doesn’t know what direction we’re going.” Setting the other bags on the ground, Hank took the small bag around his neck, and with Manny ran to the other side of the playground, where there was an empty parking lot. Hank tore a small piece of material from his wet shirt and stuck it on the fence, then threw the bag over into the parking lot. 

He picked up the other bags and ran to the side they’d come in, keeping an eye out for security.  Hank pushed the bags through the tear in the fence, then swung around backwards so Manny would go through before he did.  It was nearly impossible. But Hank couldn’t take the time to untie Manny and put him through separately.  The chain links scratched his face, side and elbows.  He pulled the tear together again and took off into the woods.

“Fuck, Manny, we almost got caught!” he panted.

“Hank, I’m sorry I got mad at you—“

“Later!  We’ve got to get home before the sun comes up.” Hank barely allowed himself to get slowed by the weight of the bags. 

It was almost dawn when they reached their camp.  Hank was finally able to let go of the bags and slide Manny off of his back.  He dropped to his knees, exhausted.  But he had to smile.  Manny was wearing a I’M WITH STUPID t-shirt. Perfect.

Author's Note: for the heck of it, here are the Beatles singing 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand'


End file.
